That Time When The Go-Go's Presented An Award To Marvin Gaye

A while back I wrote that Belinda Carlisle, the Forrest Gump of '80s pop, managed to cross paths with just about every one of my favorite musical artists at one point or another. Well, even I would not have guessed that she, nor any of the other Go-Go's for that matter, would have ever had an encounter with Marvin Gaye, given that a) he was about twenty years older than they were, b) was a soul music legend, and c) died in 1984. But then I found this clip of the Go-Go's presenting Best Soul Single at the 1982 American Music Awards.

First of all, did you know that there's something called the American Music Awards? From Wikipedia:

The American Music Awards, (AMA) is an annual American music awards show, created by Dick Clark in 1973 for ABC when the network's contract to present the Grammy Awards expired. Unlike the Grammys, which are awarded on the basis of votes by members of the Recording Academy, the AMAs are determined by a poll of the public and music buyers.

Really? So a network lost the rights to the Grammys, and decided to make up its own awards show, just based on ... whatever? Hey, sounds just about as prestigious and legitimate as the real Grammys if you ask me. Any excuse to put a bunch of unscripted musicians together in front of a camera on national TV is probably a good one, I say.

Case in point: see the Go-Go's decked out in all the colors of the rainbow! Belinda looks luminous in bright green, Jane is rather foxy in darker green, Charlotte just got off work as a stewardess in pink, Kathy just shot Professor Plum in the Study with a revolver in red, and Gina means business in a black suit. And Belinda really knocks it out of the park with her corny scripted banter [Edit: the full clip is no longer on YouTube]:



No offense to Aretha Franklin and Evelyn King, but as soon as Gina reads Marvin Gaye's name, you know this contest is over. Listen to the seismic wave of sheer erotic energy that erupts across the audience once the camera cuts to Marvin Gaye. He's like sex on a stick. A thousand rappers with a thousand hos couldn't even exude one crumb of this man's sex appeal. Even when he's just sitting there chewing gum, he's chewing it so sexily. However, I believe at this point the membranes of his nose were so worn out from coke usage that he was sleeping in hotel rooms set up with a special air filter in order to breathe comfortably. Perhaps as an alternate method of usage, he also fell into the habit of rubbing his gums with coke. In other words, Belinda, you may have met your match.

For his part, Marvin Gaye seems to grab the award from Kathy's hands while thinking, "Who the hell are these puny little white chicks?" More likely, he probably wasn't thinking about anything in particular and probably had no idea where he was. Perhaps sensing the coke theme, the producers even cut to a random shot of Stevie Nicks applauding in the audience. Don't worry, Marvin: your musical legacy may fade with your passing, but your cocaine legacy will live on.

Glass Houses: Yuppie Rock Tries To Go Punk, Ends Up Accidentally Going New Wave?

Billy Joel could've entered the '80s by sticking with his mildly rockified Tin Pan Alley Broadway New Yorker schtick, and probably wouldn't have received too many complaints. But no - he wanted more. Stephen Thomas Erlewine writes:

The back-to-back success of The Stranger and 52nd Street may have brought Billy Joel fame and fortune, even a certain amount of self-satisfaction, but it didn't bring him critical respect, and it didn't dull his anger. If anything, being classified as a mainstream rocker -- a soft rocker -- infuriated him, especially since a generation of punks and new wave kids were getting the praise that eluded him. He didn't take this lying down -- he recorded Glass Houses.

You see, Billy Joel may have been a dork in the world of pop music, but he wasn't exactly a dork in real life. He'd been a boxer, he'd dropped out of high school, he frequently rode a motorcycle - he was a tough guy at heart. He also played the piano. So here he is, it's 1979, he's made it to the top of the music world, but everybody thinks he's a wimp. He decides to show everybody he can be a bad ass hard rocker.

Except he can't. Which is fine. Every artist has his strengths and his weaknesses. Look, I'm the biggest Billy Joel advocate in the whole God damn universe, but ... is being a hard rocker one of his "strengths"? Eh ... erm ... gee Billy ... I don't know about this one. The Billy Joel entry in Rolling Stone's album guide starts out by saying, "With Billy Joel, a light touch is everything." Well, his touch on Glass Houses is about as light as Mama Cass.

To be honest, I hadn't listen to the album in its entirety in about fifteen years; I just had the big singles in my mp3 collection and felt pretty satisfied with that. So I recently gave it another spin. You know what? It's better than I remembered it being! But it's definitely top-heavy. The first side is loaded. The second side is not quite filler, but I feel like it's weaker and lacks cohesion.

Now that I know a lot more about rock history than I did when I was 14, I've noticed a couple of qualities that totally passed me by earlier. You know what I realized? Glass Houses is totally Billy Joel's "New Wave" album! It's his Elvis Costello/Joe Jackson album. As Joe Jackson did on his first couple of albums, Billy barely plays piano here, even though he is essentially a piano player. And now that I'm more familiar with Elvis Costello's catalog, I'm shocked to realize how much the verses of "I Don't Want To Be Alone" sound like a dead ringer for "Alison," complete with the awkwardly stiff white guy reggae beat, and how much "Sleeping With the Television On" sounds like his version of "(The Angels Wanna Wear My) Red Shoes."

Making an imitation New Wave album, however, was not Billy's exact intention. Here's what he recently had to say about the album's genesis:

When it came time to do Glass Houses, that was around 1980, and we were playing ... we had now had about two or three years of playing in arenas and colosseums, and I recognized that I needed to write bigger music. Songs like "Just the Way You Are," Honesty" ... ballads, didn't always fly that well, you need big sound. So I started writing harder-edged songs, guitar based songs.

Well, I guess if you take a random clump of Billy Joel songs and press the "harder-edged" button, you end up getting skinny tie power-pop. It's sort of like adding green and yellow together, hoping you'll get blue. You won't get blue, but you'll probably get something kind of weird and compelling anyway. In one sense, that's what makes Glass Houses interesting. None of his other albums sound like this. On the other hand, Glass Houses still strikes me as the sound of Billy Joel trying on a style that's not really "his." At least he tried it, realized it, and moved on. Let me put it this way: I often feel like I need to "defend" Billy Joel to his detractors. The problem with Glass Houses is that it's not the album I would give in his defense - even if I sort of like it myself. It's Billy Joel at his most ... bratty.

Witness the lead-off track and Top 10 hit, "You May Be Right." I once read an article describing "You May Be Right" along these lines: "Billy Joel's idea of being a rocker is acting like an asshole." Well sure, but you probably can't take these lyrics too literally:

Friday night I crashed your party
Saturday I said I'm sorry
Sunday came and trashed me out again
I was only having fun
Wasn't hurting anyone
And we all enjoyed the weekend for a change

I've been stranded in the combat zone
I walked through Bedford Stuy alone
Even rode my motorcycle in the rain
And you told me not to drive
But I made it home alive
So you said that only proves that I'm insane

You may be right
I may be crazy
But it just may be a lunatic you're looking for
Turn out the light
Don't try to save me
You may be wrong for all I know
But you may be right

Remember how I found you there
Alone in your electric chair
I told you dirty jokes until you smiled
You were lonely for a man
I said take me as I am
'Cause you might enjoy some madness for awhile

Now think of all the years you tried to
Find someone to satisfy you
I might be as crazy as you say
If I'm crazy then it's true
That it's all because of you
And you wouldn't want me any other way

He even rode his motorcycle in the rain! He told her dirty jokes until she smiled! The man is unhinged!

Then there's "Sometimes A Fantasy," which is either about phone sex or just plain old masturbation. Even though it doesn't appear on any of his hits collections, it was actually a small hit (peaking at #36), and as Billy Joel wannabe uptempo rockers go, I'd say it's sort of a hidden gem, with Billy trying to out-Ric Ocasek Ric Ocasek. The video might be even more hidden, and even more of a gem. Beware of evil greaser Billy:

Ooh, I didn't want to do it but I got too lonely
I had to call you up in the middle of the night
I know it's awful hard to try to make love long distance
But I really needed stimulation
Though it was only my imagination

It's just a fantasy
It's not the real thing
It's just a fantasy
It's not the real thing
But sometimes a fantasy
Is all you need

When am I gonna take control get a hold of my emotions
Why does it only seem to hit me in the middle of the night
You told me there's a number I can always dial for assistance
I don't want to deal with outside action
Only you can give me satisfaction

Sure it would be better if I had you here to hold me
Be better baby but believe me it's the next best thing
I'm sure there's many times you've wanted me to hear your secrets
Don't be afraid to say the words that move me
Anytime you want to tell them to me

"Don't Ask Me Why" is the one single on Glass Houses that fits right in with his mellower late '70s hits. Whenever this one comes on, I always have the desperate desire to stick a rose between my teeth and dance the tango. Also, I've always swooned over the "dueling" piano solo, where Billy plays one piano on the left channel, and then overdubs another piano on the right channel playing the exact same solo, only an octave higher. On the lyrical side, like "She's Always a Woman" before it, I can't really tell if he's praising or slyly insulting his subject, but the music's so relaxing, you barely notice the sarcastic barbs:

All the waiters in your grand cafe
Leave their tables when you blink
Every dog must have his everyday
Every drunk must have his drink
Don't wait for answers
Just take your chances
Don't ask me why

All you life you had to stand in line
Still you're standing on your feet
All your choices made you change your mind
Now your calender's complete
Don't wait for answers
Just take your chances
Don't ask me why

You can say the human heart
Is only make-believe
And I am only fighting fire with fire
But you are still a victim
Of the accidents you leave
As sure as I'm a victim of desire

All the servants in your new hotel
Throw their roses at your feet
Fool them all but baby I can tell
You're no stranger to the street
Don't ask for favors
Don't talk to strangers
Don't ask me why

With its pounding keyboard riff, "All For Leyna" sounds like an homage to Toto's "Hold The Line" (which itself was an homage to Sly & The Family Stone's "Hot Fun in the Summertime," but whatever). Billy's high-pitched vocal overdubs on the chorus sound like groggy Queen, or maybe Bowie with a cold? Meanwhile, the lyrics paint a vivid picture of a frustrating teenage crush. Leyna might be a maddening tease, but I sure as hell wouldn't want a guy this tightly-wound pursuing me if I were her. I'm kind of thinking that Weezer ... started here?

She stood on the tracks
Waving her arms
Leading me to that third rail shock
Quick as a wink
She changed her mind

She gave me a night
That's all it was
What will it take until I stop
Kidding myself
Wasting my time

There's nothing else I can do
'Cause I'm doing it all for Leyna
I don't want anyone new
'Cause I'm living it all for Leyna
There's nothing in it for you
'Cause I'm giving it all to Leyna

We laid on the beach
Watching the tide
She didn't tell me there were rocks
Under the waves
Right off the shore

Washed up on the sand
Barely alive
Wishing the undertow would stop
How can a man take anymore

The Answer is Die Antwoord

Forgive me if I'm late to the party, but just recently I was exposed to the videos of South African group "Die Antwoord". With a bizarre mix of hip-hop and rave music, Die Antwoord has some of the weirdest and outlandish music videos that I've seen in a great while (perhaps since Aphex Twin's "Come to Daddy").

AMG tells me that members Ninja and Yolandi are merely conceptual artists, and I'm glad to hear that because their videos look like they come out of some sort of post-apocalyptic heroin-infused hell. Take a gander at these three videos:

Baby's on Fire is perhaps their tamest video, but still weird.


Cookie Thumper gets a little stranger...


And then there's Fatty Boom Boom. Featuring a Lady Gaga impersonator wearing the infamous meat dress  and Yolandi in blackface, this video is just all kinds of bizarre, including Gaga visiting a gynecologist with some unexpected results (one conceptual artist taking a swipe at another?). If you're going to watch one of Die Antwoord's videos, watch this one. Then be glad that you don't do meth or heroin.

Billy Joel Meets The '80s ... And He Likes It

When people think about the most prominent artists of the '80s, they probably take a while before they get to Billy Joel. And yet. From the very start of the decade to the end of it, you could not keep that guy off the radio. He took to '80s Top 40 like flies on sherbet. And, he managed to do this without looking all that great or dancing all that well. No small feat.

I might as well admit it: Billy Joel was one of the first artists, after the Beatles, whose entire recorded catalog I ended up acquiring. Well, I didn't acquire it. My older brother bought River Of Dreams when it came out in 1993. Shortly afterward he bought Greatest Hits Vol. I & II, and he couldn't stop listening to it. At first I started to tease him, but sure, I thought some of the songs were pretty good, even some of the ones I hadn't heard before. Over the course of about six months, my brother gradually acquired every Billy Joel album. There are about twelve of them, plus a couple of live albums. It was quite an undertaking. I'd been listening to '60s pop for about three years straight and was getting a little sick of it. I guess my brother's enthusiasm couldn't help but rub off on me a little bit. Eventually, I had to admit that, on some level, I liked every Billy Joel album. I figured he must have been one of those few artists whose whole catalog was enjoyable and worth hearing. I wasn't exactly wrong to think that. But see, what I didn't know is that I would eventually feel this way about, oh, say, 450 different artists. Not just Billy Joel.

Later I learned that there were some rock critics who hated Billy Joel. I mean hated him. I couldn't comprehend it. But he was so good! My brother had all his albums! What were they talking about? Gradually, as I discovered more and more music, I suppose that Billy did begin to slip a little bit. My brother made the natural transition from Billy Joel to Elton John, and so I did. Sure, Billy was no Elton, but he had his own (more heterosexual) style. I mean, just when Elton ran out of gas around 1976, Billy stepped up and managed to fill that piano-based singer-songwriter void. Which would have been a horrible, horrible void.

Later, as I discovered punk, New Wave, post-punk, and alternative rock, I started gaining a different perspective. See, for people like my brother, to whom punk hardly registered as a thing, Billy Joel fit comfortably into the lineage of rock history. For people who saw punk as rock's official "re-boot" moment, artists like Billy Joel didn't really "count." But, damn it, whenever a Billy Joel song would come on the radio, I would still ... like it! According to rock critics, that was bad. I was supposed to like Leonard Cohen or Tom Waits instead. Whatever. Sometimes music simply reminds you of a certain period of your life, and you can't go back and change your feelings about it. Still, I wrestled with the Billy Joel Question for years. Was he just a guilty pleasure of mine, or a worthy member of the rock canon? Was it safe to admit that I still liked Billy Joel, or did I need to keep his CDs in a different drawer? One day, several years ago, I think I was listening to "Uptown Girl," and I finally said to myself, "You know what? Fuck it. He's great."

Here's the deal: Billy Joel's rise to commercial prominence directly paralleled the rise of punk. And to many rock critics, punk established itself as the "legitimate" branch of white late '70s rock. Anybody who wasn't punk was corporate soft rock crap. Except for Bruce Springsteen, who somehow had a "get out of punk free" card (perhaps by hanging out with Patti Smith and the Ramones?). Basically, the new rule was: if you wanted to be angry, you had to be punk. Billy Joel was angry, but he was middle of the road angry. Thus, his success was even more offensive. I think a lot of critics felt like Billy Joel didn't "get it." You can't be angry and make soft rock. Sure you can! Besides, what's more punk than being angry, but not actually punk?

The trick with Billy Joel is that he's good, but he's dorky. He's cheesy. He's not cool. Here's How Chuck Klosterman put it in his highly appreciative but somewhat rambling essay on Billy Joel from Sex, Drugs, And Cocoa Puffs, "Every Dog Must Have His Every Day, Every Drunk Must Have His Drink":

Nobody would ever claim that Billy Joel is cool in the conventional sense, particularly if they're the kind of person who actively worries about what coolness is supposed to mean. Billy Joel is also not cool in the kitschy, campy, "he's so uncool he's cool" sense, which also happens to be the most tired designation in popular culture. He has no intrinsic coolness, and he has no extrinsic coolness. If cool was a color, it would be black - and Billy Joel would be sort of burnt orange.

Yet Billy Joel is great. And he's not great because he's uncool, nor is he great because "he doesn't worry about being cool" (because I think he kind of does). No, he's great in the same way that your dead grandfather is great. Because unlike 99 percent of pop artists, there is absolutely no relationship between Joel's greatness and Joel's coolness (or lack thereof), just as there's no relationship between the "greatness" of serving in World War II and the "coolness" of serving in World War II.

So Billy Joel's not cool. Well you know what? I'm not cool either. And like Klosterman suggests, maybe sometimes it's more important to be thoughtful, responsible, conscientious, or compassionate than it is to be "cool." I love punk, but I don't wear safety pins or a mohawk or anything remotely rebellious. I am the tamest guy around. Maybe if I'd grown up in the late '70s and all those boring kids at my school listened to Billy Joel and Fleetwood Mac and ELO, then I might have gravitated towards punk and thought of punk as "my" music. Well, I grew up in a trailer park in rural San Mateo County in the mid-'90s. All the kids I knew who listened to punk and alternative rock were all the privileged upper-middle class white kids. I'll tell you what was rebellious at my school: listening to Billy Joel.

Which brings me to the task at hand. Not every late '70s superstar managed the transition into the '80s too well (I'm looking at you, Bee Gees). But maybe because, somewhat like Hall & Oates, Billy Joel's music was so firmly rooted in Brill Building pop, doo wop, and McCartney-esque songcraft, he didn't have much '70s in him to shed to begin with. Yeah, he fondled a synthesizer here and there, but for the most part, Bill Joel's '80s music doesn't really sound that "80s," just as his '70s music doesn't really sound that "70s." He always sounds like he just came back from a jam session with Carole King and Neil Sedaka.

For Billy Joel, entering the '80s was like a walk in the park; he was in the midst of his commercial and creative peak. By writing about Billy Joel in the '80s, I am literally cutting his career in half: he released six studio albums before 1979, and six studio albums after 1979. It's kind of an awkward spot to do any sort of division. I suppose I could do a "How Billy Joel Went Yuppie Rock" post, but I would have too much ground to cover. Streetlife Serenade, Turnstiles, The Stranger, 52nd St. ... another place, another time, I'm afraid. No, better to stick to the Yuppie Rock years, particularly those first three albums of the decade (I'm not even sure I want to go anywhere near "We Didn't Start The Fire").

You know what? You want the short version of how Billy Joel went Yuppie Rock? I have two words for you:

Christie. Brinkley.

Picture This, Album That?: Yuppie Rock Comes Of Age

You know how, sometimes, a band's initial commercial breakthrough album might actually be stronger (or at least less over-exposed) than the blockbuster album or albums to follow? Maybe the breakthrough album created the hype, and the follow-up album merely cashed in on the momentum? Take Madonna. Her self-titled debut peaked at #8, while Like A Virgin peaked at #1. Well sure - how were people supposed to know who the hell Madonna was when she hadn't even made an album? Sometimes you need that first hit record to generate word of mouth. Still, let's face it, I mean, Like A Virgin's pretty terrific, but it's no Madonna.

This phenomenon probably occurs with greater frequency in rap. Was Wu-Tang Forever better than Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers)? Was It Was Written better than Illmatic? Was Vol. 2 ... Hard Knock Life better than Reasonable Doubt? And yet, the follow-up albums all peaked at #1, while the debut albums peaked at #41, #12, and #23 respectively. This can even happen with entire careers. I'm guessing that few Cure fans would call Wish the band's best album, and yet it went to #1 in the UK and #2 in the US while their more influential early material barely scraped the American charts. See also: New Order and Republic, Depeche Mode and Songs of Faith and Devotion, and Metallica and ... everything post-80's? Although I actually like the Black Album.

All of which is roundabout way of saying that, maybe it wasn't the juggernaut that Sports and Fore! were, but I'm thinking that Picture This, Huey Lewis and the News' second album, might be a sleeper gem. It is, quite possibly, the group's loosest, punchiest, most consistent, and ... best album? The whole platter just goes down so smooth. Also, bonus points for the absence of any awkward gimmick songs like "The Heart of Rock & Roll" or "Hip To Be Square." Both Stephen Thomas Erlewine and "Patrick Bateman" seem to be on the same page this time around. Erelwine writes, "By incorporating stronger elements of R&B and doo wop (their cover of "Buzz Buzz Buzz" is first-rate) and embracing pop to a much greater extent, the News find their own distinctive sound -- clean-cut, steady middle-class rock & roll." Bateman observes:

The sound, though still tinged with New Wave trappings, seemed more roots-rock than the previous album, which might have something to do with the fact that Bob Clearmountain mixed the record or that Huey Lewis and the News took over the producing reins. Their songwriting grew more sophisticated and the group wasn't afraid to quietly explore other genres - notably reggae ("Tell Me A Little Lie") and ballads ("Hope You Love Me Like You Say" and "Is It Me?"). But for all its power-pop glory, the sound and the band seem, gratefully, less rebellious, less angry on this record (though the blue-collar bitterness of "Workin' for a Livin'" seems like an outtake from the earlier album). They seem more concerned with personal relationships - four of the album's ten songs have the word "love" in the title - rather than strutting around as young nihilists, and the mellow good-times feel of the record is a surprising, infectious change.

You took the words right out of my mouth, Patrick - and please put that chainsaw away. It's like the engineer turned off the "Knack" switch and flicked the "REO Speedwagon" switch instead. Forget the "yer average band" schtick; this time, Huey Lewis and the News are larger-than-life arena rock demi-gods. Enough of that bare-bones minimalism shit; now we've got an endless supply of guitar echo, multi-tracked vocal overdubs, and synthesizer embellishments. True, Picture This may have a more muscular, beefier sound than the debut did, but rather than making the band sound glossier, I'd say these more contemporary additions simply make the band sound livelier.

Check out the sweet, slow sway of "Hope You Love Me Like You Say You Do," (curiously, a minor hit that peaked at #36):



Get a load of the biting reggae groove that is "Tell Me A Little Lie" (eat your heart out, Sting):

And if you thought the News were eagerly shedding their bar band street cred in a desperate bid to go Top 40, "Workin' for a Livin'" ought to put those fears to rest. The lyrics, chanted over a rhythm that sounds a little like Nick Lowe's "They Called It Rock," paint a pretty bleak picture of life as lived by the world's most inoffensive rock band:

Bus boy, bartender, ladies of the night
Grease monkey, ex-junky, winner of the fight
Walking on the streets, it's really all the same
Selling souls, rock n' roll, any other game

Whoa Nelly! Still, nothing may prepare you for the epic Springsteen teenage male bonding pastiche "The Only One":

He was always the toughest kid
But he never meant no harm
But looking back I could see his fate
Was tattooed on his arm
Walking through the courtyard
Always there to be seen
He and little Janie
Together they were the king and queen

He was the only one, who ever really knew
He was the only one, what can we do
He was the only one, he always showed us how
He was the only one, where is he now

Three years later at the bus stop
I know I'll never forget
He looked smaller in real ways
As he bummed a cigarette
And I asked him what he'd been doing
And how's little Janie anyway
Seems he was drunk
They had a fight
Janie got hurt and they took him away

I heard about the accident
There's not much left to say
He wandered out in the middle of the freeway
It must have happened right away
And I thought about what a shame it was
Now that it's all said and done
And it may sound strange, but even now
He's still the only one

Springsteen scholars often talk about the potentially homoerotic undertones to songs like "Backstreets." Well it sounds to me like Huey might be expressing a little too much fondness for this high school buddy of his. Was Huey Lewis ... a pioneer for gay rights? And what's the deal with the "Leader of the Pack"/"Dead Man's Curve"-style "accident"? Did he just stumble drunkenly out onto the freeway one night? Who does that? I mean, anybody who does that probably deserves to get hit anyway. Or maybe he committed suicide. Or is Huey saying he drove out in the middle of the freeway and got in a car accident? We need answers, Huey. We need answers!



But before you've even had time to recover from that searing adolescent saga, Huey and the boys hit you with an album-closing cover of the Hollywood Flames' 1957 doo-wop classic "Buzz Buzz Buzz." Talk about pulling a 180. Imagine if REO Speedwagon ... could also play doo-wop!



Seriously, what more do you want? Oh I forgot, there's also this little ditty called "Do You Believe In Love." Erlewine describes the band's first big hit (written by AC/DC/Def Leppard/Foreigner/Cars producer and future Shania Twain husband Robert John "Mutt" Lange) as "a stunner, a tight set of polished, anthemic hooks that is one of the best mainstream pop singles of the early '80s." Who else besides Huey Lewis could make the line "I wanna love you all over" sound tender instead of lecherous? And who else but Huey Lewis could make a video featuring he and his band members serenading a woman in her bedroom seem sweet instead of disturbing? Well, some of our YouTube friends may have a different interpretation:

All together now "Gangbang" !

Poor, misguided girl from the 80's. She doesn't believe in love OR orgies.

Coffee and the morning after pill. A remedy for any Huey Lewis and the News sex-train.

You know, if I were a lady, and I woke to find Huey AND the News in my bed.....I think I'd be okay with that.

She bought a king size because you never know when a 6 man rock band will want to get into the bed with you

Sure, the video seems happy and upbeat, but what you probably didn't know is when the camera faded to black, the lady pulled out a gun and shot herself in the mouth after years of being harassed by six men singing to her nonstop.

This is a great band and a terrific song, but what's really interesting about this video is the hair. The News were gradually transitioning from the long shaggy hair of the 70's to the shorter more tamed hair of the 80's. Obviously, the mullet was the intermediate step.

Bottom line: Sports and Fore! may get all the nostalgic pop culture attention, but come on, folks, this is the one you want.

The Go-Go's Take Amsterdam AKA Adventures With "Jeff Jetsetter" (Bonus Post: Go-Go's Down Under)

The Go-Go's. Amsterdam. A fifty-year-old French man. This blog post pretty much writes itself. From Lips Unsealed:

I arrived with the intention of having a good time. But I was run-down and needed to rejuvenate. So, soon after checking into our hotel, the Sonesta, I corralled Charlotte into going to the health club with me. I thought a soak in the hot tubs and a massage would do the trick ... At the desk, the attendant informed us of the club's policy: We had to take off all our clothes ... Charlotte and I looked at each other and said what the hell ... We didn't even consider the spa might be co-ed - that is, until a French man in his fifties sauntered up to our hot tub. He arrived just as we were starting to relax and gazed down discerningly at us. (We also looked up discerningly.) After a moment, he joined us.

"So where are you girls from?" he said in heavily accented English.

"America," we said.

"I'm going to guess how old you are," he said. "Twenty-five or twenty-six?"

Charlotte nodded.

"How'd you know?" I asked.

"I can tell by your bodies," he said.

It became an endurance contest: Which of us could tolerate the hot water the longest, the two of us or our new friend, whom we nicknamed Jeff Jetsetter.

!!!

As we began to shrivel up like vegetables in a pot of simmering soup, Jeff invited us up to his room that night.

"I have a big penthouse," he said.

Charlotte and I traded looks that spoke volumes. We were at a loss for how to politely say thanks, but no thanks. Sensing our wariness, he quickly added, "I also have champagne and cocaine."

Looks like Jeff said the magic word.

"Cocaine?" I said.

He nodded.

"How much do you have?" I asked.

He smiled. "A lot."

"Okay, we'll come up," I said.

With a satisfied nod, he stepped out of the hot tub and said he'd see us later. When the coast was clear, Charlotte said that was weird. I shrugged. Weird was relative. We were in Amsterdam.

See, Charlotte, somebody knows how to roll with the flow here.

Later that night, the five of us went up to Jeff Jetsetter's penthouse. It was magnificent. As promised, he had a ton of blow. He was extremely generous, too, but before long I saw what Jeff had in mind. He put it right out there. He wanted to have sex with us. I was equally blunt, as were the others. It wasn't going to happen.

Buoyed by drugs, booze, and his intense desire to get laid, he refused to give up. He tried charm, jokes, gestures, and direct invitations. He brought out a suitcase full of sex toys. He thought he was being romantic ... I finally said, "We aren't going to screw you. Just give us the drugs."

Could somebody please tell me why this was not the name of the Go-Go's' next album? We Aren't Going To Screw You, Just Give Us The Drugs: now available on I.R.S. Records. Beats Talk Show.

Something clearly got lost in the translation. That or he was just thick. It turned into a pretty comical scene. He kept going into the palatial bathroom, filling up the tub with bubble bath, and lighting candles. He came out each time grinning mischievously, perhaps hopefully, announcing it was almost ready for us. Then one of us went in there, blew out the candles, emptied the tub, and turned on the lights. We were terrible. This went on for two days.

Two days??? Oh you have got to be kidding me. I thought she was going to say "two hours." And they probably shouldn't have even been hanging out with this guy for more than two minutes.

Ah, but who am I to judge? At any rate, I thought about posting a track from Vacation to commemorate the Go-Go's' little run-in with this horny French lothario, but I didn't really see a good fit. I could have gone with "He's So Strange," but I already posted the earlier, punkier version a few months back, so I should probably leave that one alone. I could have gone with their cover of the Capitols' "Cool Jerk," but Jeff Jetsetter wasn't exactly "cool," and, come to think of it, he wasn't really much of a "jerk" either. I could re-post "Get Up and Go," given that the girls may have wanted to do exactly that ... except for the fact that they actually stuck around to humor the guy.

Instead, here are a couple of clips from the band's appearance on Countdown, the Australian equivalent of Solid Gold, featuring a male host by the name of ... Molly? Well, everything's a little funny down there. I wonder who the special guest hosts are going to be tonight? Well I do declare: it's the Go-Go's! Our five foxy females manage to introduce hit videos from Huey Lewis and the News (the soon-to-be-discussed "Do You Believe In Love?"), Joan Jett (Belinda's thoughts on "Crimson and Clover": "It's great, it's really good..."), Altered Images, and ... Stevie Smash? Jane and Gina actually sound like they have opinions on the music and don't just want to sit there and be music industry puppets, while Charlotte flubs most of her lines, and an equally dazed Belinda still manages to read from a cue card without making a spectacle of herself. Molly even makes a couple of digs at the week's #1 single, Charlene's hilariously mawkish "I've Never Been To Me."



So what happens when our spunky hosts take the Countdown stage (magically introduced by Tina Turner, several weeks later)? Despite the Aerobic Rock tunic and earrings the size of a basketball hoop, Belinda is still radiating some seriously sensual lip-syncing magic here. A few of my fellow viewers happen to agree:

Belinda was & is such a pritty kitty kat girl from SoCal. Purrrrrrrrr She has such a little upturn nose & cute/gorgeous blue eyes. Any negative replies will be ignored.

Belinda was an all american cutie pie. And I do agree that she was a little thick in her younger days but when she went solo and slightly aged she blossomed into a ravishingly beautiful woman and still looks great to this day. Hey I wouldn't kick her out of bed for eating crackers.

Sorry Belinda, I have told only one other women that she is the most beautiful woman i have ever seen. But it wasn't true. You are simply perfect to me and you are the benchmark or for every woman i have ever met in my life. a tough act to follow for them darling. Woooh wiii!!!

Well, I don't know about that. Even Jeff Jetsetter probably wouldn't go that far.

Huey Lewis And The News: The Humble Origins Of Yuppie Rock

Until about 1991, I used to tell people that my favorite group was Huey Lewis and the News. Which is funny, considering that I never actually owned a Huey Lewis and the News album - not even on cassette. Maybe I figured, "What rock band could possibly be an improvement over Huey Lewis and the News"? They had everything. They were funny. They were catchy. They were zippy. They didn't make mushy ballads, and they didn't make preachy message songs. But around April 1991, I discovered oldies and decided that my favorite band was now going to be the Beatles. Playing the game of "favorite band" has been pretty dull ever since.

Stephen Thomas Erlewine nicely sums up the band's appeal (or lack thereof) in the intro to his AMG biography:

Huey Lewis and the News were a bar band that made good. With their simple, straightforward rock & roll, the San Francisco-based group became one of America's most popular pop/rock bands of the mid-'80s. Inspired equally by British pub rock and '60s R&B and rock & roll, the News had a driving, party-hearty spirit that made songs like "Workin' for a Livin'," "I Want a New Drug," "The Heart of Rock & Roll," "Hip to Be Square," and "The Power of Love" yuppie anthems. At its core, the group was a working band, and the bandmembers knew how to target their audience, writing odes to nine-to-five jobs and sports.

In retrospect, Huey Lewis and the News were the epitome of "inoffensive." They were so inoffensive that many people find them offensive. After all this time, I'm still not sure if there's a critical consensus on the artistic merits of the band. Witness this sampling of comments from an article the AV Club wrote on Sports a couple of years ago:

Huey Lewis and the News...
... were /are a more than competent pop band. They're fun and never claim to be anything but. I shall not disparage them.

I've always thought that anyone who hates Huey Lewis & The News were raving douchebags. You don't have to LIKE it, so much, there's plenty not to like. But Huey and the gang are so much fun, so inoffensive, that to actively hate them is akin to hating fun. At the absolute worst, they're a harmless distraction. At best, they're a really fun band who were among the best at pure, awesome, entertainment in the 80's that didn't involve a grotesque amount of hair spray.

I think there is something to the notion that he's a "dork" with no pretensions about him, and whatever others might have thought of him, or of music at the time, it just seemed like he had the attitude of, "I don't know why I'm popular now, and I don't know what that says about music now, but I'm just glad to be here." That and the undeniably catchy music is why I think he's still listenable these days, or at least hard to actually hate.

For the record: I kinda like a few Huey Lewis songs. He's a fun, silly but catchy pop singer. If anything he's mediocre... not horrible. I never really understood the animosity that he inspired in people and I thought that it was strange that Ellis choose him to symbolize the worst of the worst of eighties yuppiness.

I hated Huey Lewis, but it just might be because I hate saxophone. Mind you, hating the sax in the 80's was like hating synth or hair spray - it made you unable to turn on a radio or television.

I didn't like Lewis at the time, but it wasn't as much the music as his 49ers fandom. Man, I fucking hated the 49ers.

Huey Lewis was just kind of... there. On the radio. Like white noise or that bland wallpaper found in doctor's offices. I have no positive or negative anecdotes regarding Huey Lewis, or his band or his music.

So there you have it. In fact, Huey Lewis and the News ended up becoming so inoffensive that you have to wonder what kind of band they'd originally been trying to be in the first place.

It turns out that a band like Huey Lewis and the News, in the 1980 musical landscape, was not a particularly uncommon kind of band at all. They were basically one of several New Wave/power pop/pub rock groups in the mode of the Knack, the Plimsouls, The Romantics, etc. etc. These groups were a dime a dozen; they all ended up on those Rhino D.I.Y. power pop compilations. I think the theory was that, by 1980, since rock 'n' roll had become so convoluted, it was now actually a clever twist to be blatantly straightforward. It was, if you will, "hip to be square."

Hell, just look at the band's name. It's almost deliberately generic and WASPy. When Morrissey and Johnny Marr named their band the Smiths, they were trying to be ironic. Huey Lewis was probably just trying to get a record contract. Well it worked, although their debut album, the imaginatively-titled Huey Lewis and the News, didn't exactly set the world on fire. Erlewine writes:

On their eponymous debut, Huey Lewis and the News essentially act as a pub rock band, turning out hard-driving covers and originals in a workmanlike fashion. While that usually makes for great club gigs, it only occasionally makes for great records, and the debut suffers from an uneven selection of material and a somewhat stiff production, mainly because the group can't quite reproduce its sound in the studio. Even with such flaws, the album shows signs of promise, particularly in the charging "Some of My Lies Are True (Sooner or Later)."

Fair enough. For a slightly different take on the material, let's hear from Bret Easton Ellis - ahem - "Patrick Bateman":

Though the boys hail from San Francisco and they share some similarities with their Southern California counterparts, the Beach Boys (gorgeous harmonies, sophisticated vocalizing, beautiful melodies - they even posed with a surfboard on the cover of the debut album), they also carried with them some of the bleakness and nihilism of the (thankfully now forgotten) "punk rock" scene of Los Angeles at the time. Talk about your Angry Young Man! - listen to Huey on "Who Cares," "Stop Trying," "Don't Even Tell Me That You Love Me," "Trouble In Paradise" (the titles say it all). Huey hits his notes like an embittered survivor and the band often sounds as angry as performers like the Clash or Billy Joel or Blondie.

Um ... "Patrick" (if that is your real name) ... you sound like you may have read bits and pieces of rock journalism here and there, but I'm not really sure you ... know what you're talking about. That's OK, Huey will probably take all the fans he can get, even if they're well-groomed Wall Street psychopaths. Punk rock has not exactly been "forgotten," and I'm not sure anyone would classify Blondie as "angry," but your writing shows some promise and you should keep working on it.

So, my take? Well, even early on, it seems like Huey was terrified of displaying any sort of edge whatsoever; on "Who Cares," he sings, "Change the channel, standard shift/Does anybody give a sh-." No, I did not block out the word "shit." He actually says "sh-" with the dash in there. Oh my God. He almost said "shit." Almost! Yeah, I'll tell you who cares, all right: Huey Lewis cares, about saying profanity on his rock and roll album. Look, Huey, no one was going to buy the damn thing anyway!



Overall, the disc is pretty hit-or-miss, although it definitely picks up steam at the end, with the aforementioned "Who Cares" and "Trouble In Paradise," (best YouTube comment: "There's never been a sit-com called Trouble in Paradise, but if there ever is, this song would make my top 5 as potential intros"), and the frenetic closer "If You Really Love Me You'll Let Me," which is the last time anyone could have plausibly compared this band to XTC. But don't you worry, Patrick Bateman: Huey Lewis will never sound this "punk" again.

Yuppie Rock

And now we come ... to Yuppie Rock.

In a way, this series might be a bit redundant. One could argue that most '80s music is Yuppie Rock. In fact, one could argue that Yuppie Rock is merely an extension of Yacht Rock; the two genres may, in a sense, be indistinguishable. But for my purposes, I would suggest the difference in this fashion: while the term "Yacht Rock" conjures up images of mellow suburbia in general, and Southern California in particular, "Yuppie Rock" conjures up images of fast-paced urban living in general, and New York City in particular. If Yacht Rock is "smooth," Yuppie Rock is "sharp." Yuppie Rock is a little more "tightly wound." Yacht Rock was still suffering from a bit of a '70s hangover. Yuppie Rock crushed all those pet rocks into fine Colombian powder and shoved it directly up Jimmy Carter's ass.

Just what is a yuppie, anyway? Dictionary.com defines "yuppie" as "a young, ambitious, and well-educated city-dweller who has a professional career and an affluent lifestyle." Can't argue with that. I was always under the impression that "yuppie" stood for "young urban professional," but according to Wikipedia, pinning down the actual origin of the term is a thornier matter:

Joseph Epstein was credited for coining the term in 1982, although this is contested and it is claimed that the first printed appearance of the word was in a May 1980 Chicago magazine article by Dan Rottenberg. The term gained currency in the United States in 1983 when syndicated newspaper columnist Bob Greene published a story about a business networking group founded in 1982 by the former radical leader Jerry Rubin, formerly of the Youth International Party (whose members were called yippies); Greene said he had heard people at the networking group (which met at Studio 54 to soft classical music) joke that Rubin had "gone from being a yippie to being a yuppie". The headline of Greene's story was From Yippie to Yuppie. East Bay Express humorist Alice Kahn claimed to have coined the word in a 1983 column ... The proliferation of the word was affected by the publication of The Yuppie Handbook in January 1983 (a tongue-in-cheek take on The Official Preppy Handbook), followed by Senator Gary Hart's 1984 candidacy as a "yuppie candidate" for President of the United States. The term was then used to describe a political demographic group of socially liberal but fiscally conservative voters favoring his candidacy. Newsweek magazine declared 1984 "The Year of the Yuppie", characterizing the salary range, occupations, and politics of yuppies as "demographically hazy".

So, like "Generation X," "Yuppie" is is essentially an amorphous journalistic invention that can be pulled out of a hat for cheap rhetorical effect when the situation calls for it. Well, if "yuppie" can be exploited as a nebulous term of cultural shorthand, wait 'til you see what I do with "Yuppie Rock."

Yuppie Rock is sort of like pornography: I know it when I see it. And yet, there seems to be a unifying contradiction at the heart of the genre. Although its target audience may have been conservative, most Yuppie Rock musicians themselves were quite liberal. For every nine generically romantic love songs, there was always one Political song with a capital P. So, if you're amused by the spectacle of white people holding their guilt in one hand and a latte in the other, then roll up your sleeves, folks, because we are going to have a good time.

Captain Sensible's "Happy Talk": Punk Goes Rodgers & Hammerstein?

Well, if you thought the Jam's journey from "Down In The Tube Station At Midnight" to "Beat Surrender" was strange, clearly no one ever told you about Captain Sensible and "Happy Talk."

Captain Sensible was the original bassist for the Damned. If the Clash were revolutionaries, the Sex Pistols were anarchists, and the Jam were mods, then the Damned were the band that didn't give a shit about any of that crap and just wanted to have a good time. The Damned's main claim to fame is that they were the British punk band of "firsts": first to release a single, first to release an album, and the first to tour America. While being "first" didn't necessarily make them the "best," I have to say they were pretty great, all things considered - and by "all things" I mean "not being able to play their instruments in the least." In his AMG bio, Ned Raggett refers to them as "the band initially judged 'least likely to'"; ironically, their career lasted decades, as they gradually learned a chord or two and even branched out into goth rock. Personally, I'd rather listen to Damned Damned Damned than Nevermind The Bollocks any day.



The funniest part about the Damned is that their drummer went by the name of Rat Scabies and their bassist went by the name of Captain Sensible. Here are their priceless "bios" from the original Damned Damned Damned liner notes:

CAPTAIN SENSIBLE: Age 25. Instrument: guitar. Hobbies: cricket, psychedelic music, jazz. Philosophy: "I'd rather be poor and keep playing 'til I'm 60, 'cos I actually enjoy all this rubbish."

RAT SCABIES: Age 23. Instrument: drums. Hobbies: breaking things. Ambition: "Plenty of booze, plenty of women, all the drugs I can take and somewhere to live while I'm doing it."

Which brings me to "Happy Talk." "Happy Talk" is a cute little number sung by the Tonkinese character Bloody Mary at the beginning of Act II in Rodgers & Hammerstein's South Pacific. It is, quite possibly, the last song anyone would ever associate with punk rock.

Somehow, in 1982, Captain Sensible went solo, and when he did, his debut single was a tacky synth-pop cover of "Happy Talk."

So ... was it a joke? Was he serious? The Damned, after all, were the ultimate punk pranksters. And what could be a bigger prank than covering a show tune? Ultimately, the world may never know. But I'm assuming it was a joke. The thing about joke singles, however, is that they're supposed to stay a joke.

Only, Britain didn't get the joke, because the song went to #1. Wait a second. Isn't the Queen supposed to step in and prevent this sort of situation from occurring in the first place? Or is that now a parliamentary power? I'm not up to speed on those sorts of procedures.

Perhaps the funniest part of the whole thing is that Captain Sensible wasn't even the Damned's lead singer. So here's a riddle for you: is a joke song funnier if it goes to #1? Does that make it less of a joke, or more of a joke?

You decide.

Children Of A Lesser Mod: Favorite '80s Jam Songs Not To Top The Charts

As is the case with many bands, one could argue that the Jam's best songs weren't necessarily their biggest hits (although some of their #1's, like "Going Underground" and "Town Called Malice," were probably in the running). Allow me to discuss three such instances.

"That's Entertainment" is a song that, as Rolling Stone's Rob Sheffield put it, "can break your heart even if you have no idea what Weller's saying." And I certainly have no idea what Weller is saying. He reportedly wrote it in fifteen minutes after returning from a pub. It is almost literally a modern-day folk song. Wikipedia writes, "The minimalist, slice-of-life lyrics only list various conditions of British working class life ... culminating in the laconic, ironic chorus of 'That's entertainment, That's entertainment!' " So, is it an ode to the common man, or a condemnation? Rather than try to figure that out, I prefer to simply let all the images wash over me as I drown in a grey English phantasmagoria.

Curiously, the Jam's most well-known song was never even released as a single in the UK; demand was so high that it ended up charting at #21 as an import single regardless. However, like many Americans I imagine, the first version of the song I heard was actually the demo version released on the Snap! compilation, not the original studio release, and, historical rock purity be damned, that's still the version I prefer.

A police car and a screaming siren
A pnuematic drill and ripped up concrete
A baby wailing, stray dog howling
The screech of brakes and lamp light blinking
That's entertainment

A smash of glass and the rumble of boots
An electric train and a ripped up phone booth
Paint splattered walls and the cry of a tomcat
Lights going out and a kick in the balls
That's entertainment

Days of speed and slow time Mondays
Pissing down with rain on a boring Wednesday
Watching the news and not eating your tea
A freezing cold flat and dirt on the walls
That's entertainment

Waking up at 6 a.m. on a cool warm morning
Opening the windows and breathing in petrol
An amateur band rehearsing in a nearby yard
Watching the telly and thinking about your holidays
That's entertainment

Waking up from bad dreams and smoking cigarettes
Cuddling a warm girl and smelling stale perfume
A hot summers' day and sticky black tarmac
Feeding ducks in the park and wishing you were faraway
That's entertainment

Two lovers kissing amongst the scream of midnight
Two lovers missing the tranquility of solitude
Getting a cab and travelling on buses
Reading the grafitti about slashed seat affairs
That's entertainment

"The Man in the Corner Shop" is one of Weller's Kinks homages that, if you ask me, actually sounds as graceful and lilting as a genuine Kinks song, with the best "la la la" since "Death of a Clown." Although it seems to be about class envy, whenever I hear this one, I just imagine Mr. Micawber and Uriah Heep accosting me in a London alleyway.

Puts up the "closed" sign does the man in the corner shop
Serves his last then he says goodbye to him
He knows it is a hard life
But it's nice to be your own boss really

Walks off home does the last customer
He is jealous of the man in the corner shop
He is sick of working at the factory
Says it must be nice to be your own boss really

Sells cigars to the boss from the factory
He is jealous is the man in the corner shop
He is sick of struggling so hard
Says it must be nice to own a factory

Go to church do the people from the area
All shapes and classes sit and pray together
For here they are all one
For God created all men equal

While "Beat Surrender" was the official Jam "farewell" single, I've always felt that their second-to-last hit, "The Bitterest Pill (I Ever Had To Swallow)," which only peaked at #2, has the feel of a true, proper farewell single. Imagine if the Beatles had released "Get Back" after "Let It Be." Precisely.

But beyond the question of mood, "The Bitterest Pill (I Ever Had To Swallow)" strikes me as a more powerful artistic achievement and a better representation of just how far, stylistically and emotionally, the Jam had come. Paul Weller had been trying desperately to create a "real" soul song, but with "The Bitterest Pill," by jove, I think he'd finally done it. The lyrics describe a predicament of torment and anguish: the classic "my girl is marrying another" scenario. But how!

In your white lace and your wedding bells
You look the picture of contented new wealth
But from the on-looking fool who believed your lies
I wish this grave would open up and swallow me alive

For the bitterest pill is hard to swallow
The love I gave hangs in sad coloured, mocking shadows

When the wheel of fortune broke, you fell to me
Out of grey skies to change my misery
The vacant spot, your beating heart took its place
Now I watch smoke leave my lips and fill an empty room

For the bitterest pill is hard to swallow
The love I gave hangs in sad coloured, mocking shadows
The bitterest pill is mine to take
If I took if for a hundred years, I couldn't feel anymore ill

Now autumn's breeze blows summer's leaves through my life
Twisted and broken dawn, no days with sunlight
The dying spark, you left your mark on me
The promise of your kiss, but with someone else

It's like he turned Wordsworth or Keats ... into a soul ballad. Forget mod revival, this is Romanticism revival. The imagery (much of which, I have to confess, I've only untangled after posting the lyrics just now) is so incredible, I don't even care that most of the words don't actually rhyme (Place/Room? Take/Ill?). How can love hang in "sad coloured, mocking shadows"? "Twisted and broken dawn"? Even the record sleeve is majestically gothic.

Then - then! - there's the arrangement and the production, in which the band pulls out all the stops. An elegant piano all but announces, "Class of '77 this ain't." The string section soars so eerily high at the end of the verses that it almost sounds like a mellotron or a synthesizer. Weller even brought in a female singer to give it that special Marvin Gaye/Tammi Terrell touch. "Screw the other guys, I'm making the ultimate soul ballad, damn it." But, as AMG's Stewart Mason writes, "Rick Buckler's typically stiff and less than subtle drumming, which is oddly over-emphasized in the mix, keeps the song from drifting off into the land of adult contemporary." The Modfather? Adult Contemporary? Surely you jest.

I wish I were. For then ... came the Style Council.